


Arbus - an ode to delirium

by Glendaa



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Freeform, M/M, Stream of Consciousness, scorching passion for either Timmie or Elio (I think both work here), sorry - I don't know what this is - it just wanted to be written, we are all sort of zombies us fans...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glendaa/pseuds/Glendaa
Summary: Armie. Timmy. A stream of consciousness. A dip into madness. A declaration of sorts.





	Arbus - an ode to delirium

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Brandy R. Horne.  
> A freeform thing that ‘barnacled’ its way out of my brain tonight after our chat. Sorry ;-)
> 
> BTW If you don’t know the work of late photographer Diane Arbus, do yourself a favor and google her portraits of marginalized people. In a way, it's us, I feel.

 

We are a hangry mob

marching with pitchforks and torches.

_We hate how desperate you make us feel._

How hungry we are.

How angry for your absence.

 

A gaggle of zombies

all piercing screams and deepthroated moans.

_We love how desperate you make us feel._

United by the same hunger.

Wishing to devour and drain.

 

Circus freaks begging to be seen

pathetic losers wishing for a scrap.

_We hate how desperate you make us feel._

Minds lost over peridot eyes, translucent skin, ebony curls.

Senses intoxicated by flushed cheeks and smirking lips.

 

We fancy ourselves hunters on the prowl

we are but marginal life-forms, blinded by your scorching sun.

_We love how desperate you make us feel._

Kneeling penitents dragging bloodied knees on harsh terrain.

Pilgrims to a Holy Land we’ll never reach.

 

As I lead this horde of lost souls

I, firstborn disciple of the church of You

since that fateful summer

I remember

how you dared me to desire you

nonchalant, impossible, everlasting you

you

fuel for my insanity, manna to quench my thirst

only anchor to my life astray

 

I remember everything

 


End file.
